


Prodigal Son

by ReinaQueenofDemons



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Blood and Injury, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Burns, Caretaker!Jaskier, Caretaking, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/M, Fever, Geralt and Yennefer calling Jaskier Dandelion, Geralt can't hide his injury, Geralt doesnt know what to do and Yen won't help, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Healing, Healing turns into sex, Injured!Geralt, Injured!Yen, Jaskier bashes someone in the face with his lute, Jaskier cries, Jaskier has a big mouth and a black eye, Love Confessions, M/M, Polyamory, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, injured!Jaskier, undead wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:53:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26227492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReinaQueenofDemons/pseuds/ReinaQueenofDemons
Summary: Geralt and Jaskier arrive in Sodden as Yennefer burns it down.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 9
Kudos: 123





	1. Sodden

**Author's Note:**

> Tags for later chapters.

Geralt hissed as he dismounted Roach. His leg burned, knee buckling slightly. Even with the Swallow coursing through his system, he still felt light headed, and the wound was on fire. Bites from Ghouls were deadly, the poison sweeping through his system could have easily killed him, and yet he was on his feet. He knew he needed a healer, but it would have to wait. He tightened the makeshift bandage slightly, wincing softly at the pain that shot up from the injured thigh. When he looked up, Sodden was in view. Pushing the pain out of his mind, he drew his steel and limped forward.

Jaskier knew it was a risk to cross here in Sodden. He couldn't tell exactly what drew him here, only that he felt he needed to come, and now seeing the battle raging between Nilfgaard and whomever stood to defend the fortress, he couldn't understand why he felt the need to stay. He hid behind a tree, trying to avoid notice. Hopefully he could slip around the battle, through the trees, and avoid Nilfgaard's army. And then he saw him. The white-haired Witcher stumbling towards the gates. Gates that would soon be overrun with Nilfgaardian soldiers. What's more, the Witcher was limping. "Fuck." The bard swore and rushed forward. "Geralt!" The name died on his lips.

The Witcher looked up just in time to see the bard rush forward and push him back, behind a large stone. The blow to the ground did nothing good for Geralt's injured leg and he gripped his thigh in pain. "What the fuck, bard." He hissed. Jaskier turned around to face the soldier that had aimed to attack the Witcher, and was promptly punched across the face. He fell back to the ground beside the Witcher, holding the side of his head. He coughed and sputtered, blood flying from his lips. Geralt hissed again, his golden eyes turning murderous at the sight of Jaskier's blood. He drew his sword and cut the head off the soldier before he could touch Jaskier again. As the man's head rolled into the dirt, the Witcher dropped to a knee, holding his injured leg between his hand and his sword. 

"You need a healer." Jaskier spit blood into the dirt as he turned and reached out to see the wound, but Geralt slapped his hands away. He tried not to look hurt at the rejection. "What are you doing here?" He finally asked, righting himself as he got up. 

"Could ask you the same." The Witcher growled, getting back to his feet. He had to plant his sword in order to rise, a wince at his lips.

Jaskier was about to answer when he saw what must have been the real reason they were both here. "Yen." He nodded to the figure clothed in silver and black walking towards the burning gates. Geralt's eyes widen when he saw her. He started to go towards her but another soldier appeared out of the shadows. Jaskier grabbed the first thing he could find-his lute-and smashed it against the soldier's head. The man fell to the ground, and Geralt finished him with his steel. The bard whimpered, looking at his now broken lute. "Fuck." The wood was split down the middle, and the strings had broken free, curling wildly around the base. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow. "Uh...that's...a shame." To his credit he sounded almost sincere. He felt the medallion at his neck hum and placed a hand to it as he turned to where he had seen Yen. Both Witcher and Bard stepped back, as the flames that had engulfed the night flickered and receded, the fire suddenly went out from the ruins of the fortress. They eyed the gates, then each other, and then finally behind them to where Yennefer stood high overhead, positioned on a great boulder. "Jaskier..." Geralt grabbed ahold of the bard by the collar. "Run."

The sorceress's fire was not meant for them, but the Witcher was fairly certain that it would not discriminate. He pushed Jaskier as far out of the way as he could, and then moved his hand quickly to cast Quen, protecting them both from the raging flames that rained down upon Nilfgaard's army. His eyes raised to the stone, watching Yennefer's chaos explode into the deadly pyre that consumed her enemies. Men dropped, burned and scorched. As the screams abated into the night, he could see her weaken and finally fall.

"Yennefer!" He yelled her name as the flames died away, leaving scarred and bloody earth in their wake. He took off running for the stone, Jaskier on his heels. With his limp the bard was easily just as fast. "Yen!" He yelled again, seeing her drop motionless to the scorched surface. His leg gave out and he fell down beside her. "Yen." He repeated, dragging himself over to her body. 

"Geralt, her stomach." Jaskier knelt down beside the Witcher and Sorceress, pointing out the dark red stain that coated her dress. Geralt put his hand over the wound and pressed down hard, golden eyes on her face. The sudden intake of pained breath brought relief to his face. Beside him the Bard let out a heavy puff of air, as though he had held it in for several minutes. Violet eyes opened to meet Geralt's golden eyes, almost translucent in the night's blackness, and then darted over to where Jaskier had knelt.

"Yen? Don't move. You're hurt." Geralt gripped her shoulders to keep her still. Even in the dark he could see the blood that ran from her temple and from her mouth. He looked over at Jaskier, but neither of them where carrying any supplies that would help. His hands were covered with her blood, as were her own. "Fuck." He muttered. His leg could barely support his own weight, let alone help support hers. He looked at Jaskier again. The Bard's concerned cornflower eyes were on him now, waiting for his orders. His lips were silent for once, and he briefly wondered whether his jaw was broken, given the blood that had dribbled out from his mouth. Faint bruising was appearing around the circumference of his right eye, indicating where the majority of the injury had occurred. "Jask, help me." He finally said, looping one of Yen's arms around his shoulders on his uninjured side as he moved to stand.

The bard was immediately at his injured side, helping him to take on his own weight plus that of the sorceress. After a moment they were all three of their feet. Yennefer winced and held her stomach. "Geralt." Her head dropped against her chest, consciousness slipping.

"I've got you, Yen." He whispered to her. He pulled his arm from Jaskier, gripping his thigh. He hissed, his eyes blazed in determination and he dragged himself and Yennefer forward under his own power. "Come on, Jaskier." He reached behind and grabbed the Bard's arm, pulling him along as well. "Yen, stay awake." He shook her slightly. 

The sorceress opened her eyes again, yelping softly as she gathered the last of her strength. She hung onto the Witcher's shoulder, trying to walk under her own power. She glanced back only once, to ensure that Nilfgaard's army had burned in the pyre of Sodden's woods. "I did it." She whispered in the smallest of voices.

"Yes." The Witcher agreed.

"Wait. Tissaia. Triss. Sabrina. They need help. They need...need..." The steps they had taken began to blur again. Her vision swam. Nausea crawled up into her throat and she could not speak another word.

"Don't worry, the Northern kingdoms have come." Jaskier pointed to the tree line where King Foltest's army was stationed. "They'll help your friends." Geralt's hand was still clamped around his arm like a vice, and he found himself winded as he had to take two steps for every one of the Witcher's strides.

"Roach." Geralt called for the old mare who sprinted to the sound of her master's voice. He let go of Jaskier and had to grip her reigns to keep his leg from giving out again. He pushed Yennefer against the horse but did not have the strength to lift her up. "Get-Jask-get her up on Roach." 

"Right." Jaskier gently moved Yennefer from his grip and swept her into his arms. He struggled for a moment to lift her unto the horse's saddle. Geralt put his shoulder under them to steady Yen as she grabbed the saddle and swung her leg over. She cried out and gripped her stomach, but she was up. Geralt mounted up behind her, struggling for a moment to get his injured leg to cooperate. "There's an inn about 3 or 4 miles that way." The bard pointed down the road. 

Geralt nodded. "Lead on then." He told the bard, throwing him Roach's reigns. Yennefer moaned softly, her body swaying forward. "Lean against me. Lean back." He wrapped an arm around her, holding her up. With his other hand he gripped the saddle in front of them. "Stay awake." He hissed sharply into her ear. She turned her head just slightly to the sound of his voice and he leaned his forehead against her gently. "Breathe." He inhaled sharply, and she followed suit. He forced the air out of his lungs and then pulled it in again, trying to speed up his breathing so it matched the intensity she would need to retain consciousness. Unfortunately it caused his own head to spin and he found himself struggling to maintain clarity as bright orbs danced in front of his eyes. Just a little farther, he told himself.

Jaskier urged Roach forward, leading her down the gravel path. He stumbled around a little, in the dark and with his right eye beginning to swell and dampin his vision. Roach thankfully seemed to know where she was going and stubbornly kept the Bard on a relatively straight path to avoid jostling the Sorceress and the Witcher too much. "Everyone alive up there still?" He shivered a little in the night air, as the adrenline and heat from Sodden sapped away.

Geralt nudged Yennefer in his arm and felt her stir. "We're okay." He muttered, just enough for the Bard to hear him. "Keep going." He could feel Yen growing cold in his arms but he had nothing save his own body heat to offer her. Distastefully he seemed to have more of that than normal. The fever that had been brewing all night now rushed over him in waves, radiating from his flesh in putried flames. "Jaskier..." He ground out. The Bard turned back to him. "Water." He requested, though he knew it was a fruitless effort. They truly had nothing until they reached the inn.

Jaskier checked Roach's nearly empty saddle bags anyway. He went through what he could while she walked on, fishing around and fumbling through them in the darkness looking for the wineskin. He found it lodged between Geralt's bracers and opened it. "Here." He handed it up to the ailing Witcher, gasping a little when he brushed fevered skin. The Witcher took the wineskin and brought it to his lips, mercifully a few drops reached his tongue, cooling the inferno if only for a fleetingly moment. "Geralt you don't look good." If he had the strength he would laugh. Not as though Jaskier could see much of him in the dark. 

Jaskier took an awkward position now, fisting the Witcher's shirt in an abortive effort to keep the man upright. He slid a few fingers into the lacings of Yen's dress as well, just some warning in case either of them began to fall from the saddle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was suppose to be a one-shot, but it got too long, so enjoy. :)


	2. Visenna

Dawn broke as the village, if one could call a few tratched roof houses and two or three stone structures a village, came into the view. Yennefer gasped and a slight sob broke her lips. Jaskier glanced forward and saw fresh blood between her fingers. "Fuck." He muttered. "We're almost there, Yen." He looked up at Geralt and saw the Witcher was not in any better condition. His skin was pallid, sweat coated his brow and his eyes were faded and haunting. "Fuck." The Bard swore again, he urged Roach to move faster though he knew she was also exhausted.

There was a girl ahead, throwing grain to a few chickens who wondered the grounds in front of the inn. Her hair was dark as midnight, braided and spilling over her shoulder. She looked up at the sound of horses. "Aye, madame." Jaskier called out to her. He urged Roach to stop and walked forward. 

"Madame?" The girl chuckled. She stepped forward and her eyes widened in recognition. "Master Jaskier!" Her face broke out into a grin. "What brings you back here after all this time?" 

"Oh you remember me?" Jaskier gave her a boyish grin. "I'm a bit shocked, it's been...ten-twelve years maybe. You must have been a young girl when I played here." He laughed softly, caught up in the attention. Though his eyes darted nervously as he tried to recognize her, and wondered if he had bedded her. 

"I was sixteen and newly married." He swallowed thickly as she walked over to him. "You played my wedding. My mother owned the inn, back then. Rest her, she passed on some three years ago, but you enchanted her like no bard ever could." Oh shit. Not the daughter than, but the mother. The girl smiled, and then laughed as she saw the terror in his eyes. "I'm Vala. Who are your friends?" She nodded to Roach. "And what happened to your face?" She gestured to his right eye, now significantly swollen and bruised purple. 

"My f-OH! Oh!" Jaskier swallowed again and regained his composure, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yes, um. We need help. You uh...you run the Inn now? We need a room. My friends are badly injured." He moved closer to Roach. "Um...a room, food...a doctor or a healer. Please, we've just come from-"

"Sodden." She nodded. "Yes, we know. We've seen the smoke and heard the marching of Nilfgaard's army." She turned and looked towards the inn. "Luken! Luken, hurry out here." The girl picked up her skirts and moved quickly towards Roach. "You've brought the White Wolf to my door." Her eyes caught the bandage around Geralt's thigh. "We have no doctor or healer, but there is a Sorceress, she stayed with us last night. She was meant for the battle."

"Please." Geralt muttered softly, as his vision swam and darkened. "We are..."

Vala shook her head. Her dark eyes met the Witcher's blanking stare. "Don't speak, sir. You're gravely injured, any fool can see it. I'll get ye help." 

A burly, red haired man with a thick beard appeared from the doorway. "Vala? What's going on?"

Vala grabbed his arm and gestured to Jaskier. "Master Jaskier, this is my husband, Luken. Luken, this is the bard who played our wedding."

Jaskier gritted his teeth, expecting a punch or some sour look that men often met him with after a repeat encounter, but this red-haired ogre merely laughed, cheeks reddened with amusement. "The bard who bedded your sainted mother! Welcome, I'll surely make coin tonight if you're staying with us, Bard." His attention then turned to Geralt and Yennefer, and his expression darkened. 

Jaskier cleared his throat, thankful for the hearty welcome, but focused now at the task at hand. "A pleasure sir, but really I need help for my friends."

"They've come from Sodden." Vala explained. She had gone to Roach and was now reaching for Yennefer. The sorceress collapsed in her arms, but Vala had a stronger constitution than she first appeared and was able to take on Yennefer's weight. "Come Mage," She said to Yennefer. "I'll soon have ye in a warm bed." The sorceress was on the edge of consciousness and could not reply. Vala pulled her dead weight with significant, but able effort.

Between Luken and Jaskier the two men were able to pull Geralt from the horse and get his arms over their shoulders. The Witcher was unconscious now, his head bowed, chin hitting his chest. "Eh, boy!" Luken yelled at a young boy who had come out to see the commotion. "Stable the Witcher's horse and bring his gear inside, will ye? And be quick about it."

"If anything is missing I'll know!" Jaskier hissed to the boy in warning. The lad nodded furiously, and the bard could see in his eyes that his warning stuck. 

"Ah, Merrik is a good lad, just a bit lazy." Luken muttered as he and the Bard dragged the Witcher to the Inn. "How did the White Wolf come to be in Sodden? And you also, for that matter?"

"We were following the Sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerburg." Jaskier nodded ahead to where Vala was now helping Yen up the stairs and inside. The inside of the inn was just as damask and salt of the earth as the outside, but at least it was clean and well kept. Better than some of the establishments Jaskier had frequented. The stairs at the back lead to a small assortment of rooms. Vala opened the closest and hauled Yennefer inside. She dropped the sorceress down as gently she could into the bed in the middle of the room. Luken and Jaskier came around the other side and dropped Geralt in beside her.

"Luken go rouse the sorceress from last night." Vala directed, rubbing her lower back. "Tell her she has work." Luken nodded, leaving the room.

"Thank you." Jaskier muttered. "For your help."

Vala nodded. "I'll send one of my girls up with bath water and some clean scraps for bandages. My boy will be up shortly with your bags. Let me know if you require anything else." The bard nodded, and the innkeeper left the room, closing the door behind her.

Jaskier let out a breath and went over to the bed. "Yen?" He touched the sorceress's shoulder and tried to awaken her, but she had succumbed to the darkness. Geralt was paler in the morning light than he had been before, and his face was coated with a sheen of sweat. The bandage at his thigh was beginning to soak through with blood and pus. "Ow." The bard touched his face for the first time in many hours, and found it was indeed swollen and painful. With a sigh he removed his jacket and cast it aside, rolling up his sleeves. There was a sharp knock at the door. "Come in." The boy, still looking absolutely frightened, brought in Geralt's bags and set them just inside the door before scampering off.

"A witcher?" Came a new voice. "I thought there was reason the boy looked so terrified." A tall woman with long, dark red hair, wearing a burgundy cloak and carrying a leather bag entered the room. She had a quiet aura about her, and though Jaskier wanted to regard her in a bit of suspicion, he found he could not. "Hello bard." She greeted, her voice was soothing and he found himself moving out of her way as she lay hands first on Yennefer and then moved on to Geralt. "This wound is not of Sodden." She muttered, and he wondered if she was speaking to herself. "Oh. This will be troublesome." She looked up at Jaskier. "I can stitch the Sorceress's wound, and treat the gangrene in your Witcher's leg, but they need attention beyond my skill. You will need to take them to the Temple of Melitele in Ellander. Do you know the way?" Jaskier nodded. He flinched as she came closer. She reached out and grabbed his chin and he winced. "I will treat your eye as well." She gave him a reassuring smile.

He didn't want to trust her, but he found himself with no choice. Yennefer's injuries were partially magical, and he had no ability to treat Geralt without the Witcher giving him instruction. "You...said gangrene." He bite his lip, suddenly more worried. The sorceress nodded. "That...um..." He didn't want to ask. He figured if she said she'd treat it, she didn't possibly mean...

"He'll keep his leg, bard. Make no mistake. Juniper and burdock root will neutralize and draw out the toxins. The sisters will heal the rest of the wound. His heartrate is four times slower than a normal man's. It's prevented the poison from reaching his heart." She drew out a bowl and some herbs and roots from her pouch and set them on a small table. "Can you sew, bard?"

"I can." He moved closer to the bed. She pulled out a needle and a length of twine and held them out to him. Silently he took them. His stomach flopped over when he realized why she had asked. His cornflower eyes batted down to Yen and he winced. He had patched Geralt up numerous times. It wasn't blood that made him squeamish, it was the fact that it was Yennefer. Yennefer, who was strong, powerful, and scary beyond his darkest nightmares. He really didn't relish being choked to death with her chaos if she woke up while he was tending to her. Or worse, have Geralt wake up and have it seem like he caught them in a compromising situation. 

"Clean out the wound and stitch it shut." The sorceress's words broke his thoughts and he shook them away to concentrate on her instructions. "I have willow bark and valerian should she need it." The smell of the potions she was brewing made him feel light headed. Or maybe it was his own wounds. The crack to his face was throbbing painfully now. It made it that much more difficult for him to see.

Vala's girls had brought up a tub and some hot water along with clean bandages. He made his way over to the tub and dipped in a small basin. He set it aside and took a breath to steady his hands. Carefully he touched the rent fabric of Yennefer's dress. He peeled it back from the wound, wincing as it tore a little more so he could assess it. It wasn't as long as he had feared, but it appeared deep and uneven, not the most ideal for stitching by far. It bled sluggishly as he wiped away dirt, soot, and dried blood, trying to gauge how deep the wound went. She must have begun to heal it herself, because he found new scar tissue forming inside when he wiped away the fresh blood. It was swallower than he first thought, but either way his stitches would be ugly. He hoped the sisters could prevent it from scaring.

Geralt let out a groan and shook against the bed, startling both Jaskier and the sorceress. The bard dropped the needle, his attention immediately turned to Geralt, who half opened his eyes and would have swung at the woman if the bard hadn't grabbed his arm and held it down. "Geralt." Jaskier hissed. "She's here to help. Look at me. LOOK.AT.ME" He demanded, forcing the Witcher's golden gaze to himself.

Geralt panted, eyes not completely able to focus. He was sweating again. "There's...magic, in the air."

Jaskier pointed to the woman. "She's a sorceress."

He still couldn't quite focus on her face. He thought he recognized dark red hair, but her features were a blur. Only Jaskier's voice and the outline of him was recognizable. "Yen..." He muttered. 

"She's here." Jaskier took his hand and placed it over Yen's. "Right here." He felt her hand, sighing sharply when he realized it felt warm. Warm was good. Warm meant she was still alive. Under the scent of blood and smoke he could just make out lilac and gooseberries. It was faint, but it was there. 

"Drink this, Geralt." The woman put a spoon to his lips and he sipped the liquid. It tickled in his throat, though it was bitter on his tongue. 

"Taste like juniper with..."

"Burdock, yes. Gangrene was setting in. I needed to neutralize the toxins." She fed him another spoonful. "Don't move." She set the bowl aside and moved on to his thigh. She cleaned the wound and applied leaves and a poultice. He flinched, whatever she had put on his leg stung, but it soothed the burn and the ache he felt from the limb. She wrapped it in a clean bandage. 

"You're in my head." The Witcher muttered. The ceiling was swirling around him. He was nauseous and the world didn't seem to stop moving in front of his eyes. "You're listening."

The woman smiled. "You were saved by your pulse. It's four times slower than a normal man's." She finished with his leg and picked up the bowl again, feeding him another spoonful.

"I'm a Witcher, but you knew that already." He muttered. There was something in the bowl besides juniper and burdock. "Thank you." He could feel his body growing heavy again, consciousness was leaving him. He swirled the liquid in his mouth for a moment before realizing it was Valerian. "Thank you for saving me."

"I was on my way to Sodden to help the Mages, when I stopped here for the night. And then this morning..."

"I'm glad our paths crossed then."

The woman smiled. "People linked by destiny will always find each other."

The words penetrated Geralt, and his eyes flashed in realization. He tried to fight the descent into sleep, but the woman grabbed his shoulders and pushed him against the pillow. "It's time to sleep, Geralt. There's valerian in the medicines. Go to sleep. I was just a dream." He struggled to stay awake, to speak, but he could not fight the drugs she had dosed him with. He was pulled back under.

Jaskier watched the exchange with critical eyes. They wandered to the woman, and he felt a ping of distrust, but he also saw the look of recognition that had flashed on Geralt's face before he went back to sleep. Something about this woman was familiar to him, and the Bard had to wonder what it might be. His thoughts turned back to Yennefer as Geralt fell asleep. He had threaded the needle, but his hands still shook. "Yes, well um..." He cleared his throat. The woman reached over and touched his hands. He gasped softly and pulled away from her.

"You don't need to fear me, Bard." She told him. She came around to the other side of the bed and dropped a clean cloth in the basin he had set by the bed. Carefully she wiped away the blood from Yennefer's face.

"I'm not afraid." He muttered, glancing at her. With a wince he made his first stitch and tied it off. He let out a sigh of relief when Yennefer did not stir. "I'm not afraid of you, anyway. Little frightened of her, if I'm honest."

The sorceress smirked. "And why is that?" She added rosemary and chamomile to the water and bathed Yennefer's face with it.

"She's...powerful, and important." He made his next stitch, trying to keep them small and even. "Important to Geralt. Very important to Geralt." He looked over at Witcher, seemingly resting more comfortable now. "They loved each other, once. I think they still do. But it's...complicated." He made five more stitches as he talked. "There's this whole thing with a Djinn. Geralt wished for their destinies to be tied together. Yennefer hated that. Left him. But...destiny has drawn them back together." He made his last stitch, slightly surprised at how quick it had gone. The woman handed him a paste to put over the wound, followed by a clean bandage. He wrapped the cloth around her abdomen and sat back. 

"And where do you fit in, bard?" She reached for him and grabbed his chin, turning his face towards her. She dabbed his split lip with a cloth.

"I...don't know." He answered honestly. There was something about her face, now that he properly looked at her that was hauntingly familiar. 

"You're in love with him, and you don't think he loves you back." She dipped the cloth in the water once more and then reapplied it to his face. She added mint leaves to the water, swirling it slightly and then soaked the cloth and placed it on his eye. He could feel the swelling retreating slightly. 

"How did you..." He felt exhausted suddenly.

"Magic." She muttered, pushing him down against the bed so that he was laid at Yennefer and Geralt's feet. She laid the cool, wet cloth over his eye. "Rest, Jaskier. Remember to take them to the Temple of Melitele when you awake." Her voice was distorted now, and no longer belonged to a figure in the room. Hopelessly he searched for her as his vision darkened, but he was soon asleep. 


	3. Gossamer

Geralt woke first. He sat straight up and looked around the room, blindly searching their surroundings as he tried to remember where the fuck they were. He calmed only after he recognized that Yennefer was at his side and Jaskier at his feet. He remembered his wound, and his hand flew to his leg. He fumbled with the bandage undoing it quickly, pulling away the poultice and peering at the wound between the tear in his breeches. The skin was already beginning to scar, the wound was a light scab. There was some redness in the skin around it, but while it was tender there was no longer an ache driven deep into his bones. He'd limp for awhile, but otherwise it would just another scar to mar his flesh. His fever had broken as well, he found his shirt was uncomfortably damp.

He glanced to his right and found Yennefer's violet eyes staring up at him. He could feel her confusion. "Hey." He kept his voice quiet to avoid waking Jaskier, for the moment. He grunted as he turned to his side, moving closer to her.

"Geralt?" She muttered. "What happened? Where...where are we?" She whimpered as she touched her stomach, her fingertips brushing the bandage.

"We're a few miles from Sodden." Came his reply. "You uh...burned the shit out of Nilfgaard."

"I remember." She closed her eyes again. For some reason tears came to her eyes. His face twisted in confusion as he pushed himself up a little more.

"Foltest's army arrived just as we got you out of there." He hesitated and then reached out and moved a lock of matted hair away from her face. 

"I need to..." She tried to move but the strength just to sit up seemed sapped from her. "Fuck." She looked over at him. He reached out and grabbed her hand and she squeezed his back in return. "I need to go back. Tissaia...I need to find her."

"We have to go to the temple of Melitele. So they can heal you." Jaskier still had his eyes closed, but he stretched out and sat up, rubbing his back tenderly. He took the cloth from his eye and touched it lightly. "Does this look any better?" 

Geralt scoffed softly. "Your eye is a brighter color than your clothes for once, Jaskier, but the swelling is better." The Bard squawked in disapproval, but there wasn't much else to be done about it. "Why the temple of Melitele?"

Jaskier mouthed the words back, trying to remember why he had said that. His memory seemed uncomfortably hazy, as though he was forgetting something important. "That's what the...woman said."

"What woman?" Yen asked. It took great effort, but she was able to sit up against the headboard. She panted, her breathing coming in uneven gasps. Her vision was swimming again. Her hands felt raw as she touched the bandage at her stomach. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow. He too searched his memories. It seemed a dream but yet it was not. "Visenna." He whispered. The harder he tried to remember her, the more distorted her face seemed to him. Yet her words haunted him inside his head. People linked by destiny will always find each other. 

"She didn't give her name." Jaskier looked at Geralt. "You did know her, then?"

"It doesn't matter." Geralt moved to sit up. He hissed sharply when moving his leg, but it was far less painful that it had been. Stiff, mostly. He got to his feet and his knee held this time as he limped over to his gear. "Where's Roach?" 

"Uh, stabled." Jaskier stood up, eyes scanning the floor. He thought he threw his jacket down somewhere and he was suddenly very interested in finding it. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Geralt had stripped off his shirt and was now bent over, fumbling around in his saddlebag for a clean one. Absolutely nothing. 

"Uh." Yennefer gasped as she rolled to her side and tried to rise. She caught herself on the bedside table as she tried to stand. "Geralt." The Witcher was suddenly beside her, leaning into her. She gripped his shirt and his shoulder, using him as support to get on her feet. He looped one of her arms around his shoulders, the other secured her waist. 

Jaskier put on his jacket and slipped the strap of his broken lute around his shoulders. He felt a ping of sadness as he looked at it, but there was nothing for it. Nothing short of magic would repair it now. He should just leave it behind, but he couldn't bare the thought. He went to collect the bags before Geralt could ask. "Here." He picked up the sword bag and placed it over Geralt's free shoulder, knowing that was the only bit the Witcher truly needed. There was a look of gratitude in the Witcher's eyes, if only for a moment. 

They managed their way down the stairs where Vala was waiting behind the bar. She was cleaning the countertop with a rag while one of her girls swept the floor. She stopped her ministrations when she saw them come down the stairs. "Ye be off, then? Can't interest ye in supper?" 

"No, no. Thank you for your hospitality." Jaskier dropped what coin he had found on the countertop. 

Vala gave him a small smile, sweeping the coin into her hand and putting it in a pocket of her apron. "Shall I send my boy to help ye saddle your horse, Master Witcher?" She looked past Jaskier's shoulder to Geralt. 

"No. We'll manage." Was Geralt's reply. 

Jaskier tried to smile. "How far to Ellander then?" 

"Ellander? About a half week's ride through Temeria. That way." She gestured in the proper direction. "You'd better be off if you want to reach Temeria's borders before dusk." 

"Thank you." Jaskier nodded to her. 

"Come back through here sometime, Bard. You'll be welcome." Those were the words she left him with and he smiled before following his Witcher and his Sorceress out. 

With Roach saddled and Yennefer and Geralt both set upon her, the journey was slow. Yennefer slept, too weak to retain consciousness for long. Jaskier muttered to himself the whole way, keeping his distance by about 200 yards behind Roach so that Geralt could barely hear him. Finally fed up the Witcher urged the horse to stop and turned, his golden glare set on the Bard. "What the fuck are you muttering about back there, Bard?" 

Jaskier's head snapped up and he looked very much like a child caught stealing. He swallowed painfully, dragging his feet as he got closer. "It's nothing." 

"It's never nothing with you, Jaskier. In twenty fucking years it's always been something, and never have you purposefully kept it out of my head." He tapped the reigns and Roach walked forward as soon as the Bard was beside him again. 

"I was writing a new ballad." Jaskier tried to keep his voice steady and swallow down the overwelming urge to burst into tears. Where this lump in his throat came from he didnt know. "Doesnt sound right without my lute." A few tears managed to escape and he dared not look at Geralt. He wasnt crying over the fucking lute, but it was better if the Witcher thought that so he didnt ask further questions. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow. He could hear the emotion, the pain in the Bard's voice and he caught the wetness in his eyes. "We'll get you a new lute in Ellander." He said softly. Softer than he had spoken to the Bard in quite a few years, even before the mountain and the dragon. 

"With what money? I just gave all our coin to Vala back there." He shot back quickly. Maybe a little too quickly. He still dared not to look at Geralt's face. The lump was growing heavier. 

"We'll figure it out, Jask. We always do." 

"WE?!" That fucking did it. Unable to keep the lump at bay, Jaskier burst into tears right there in that spot. He sobbed loud enough to rouse Yennfer who lifted her head and looked confused as she gripped the arm Geralt held her with. 

"Jaskier?" The Witcher looked both shunned and perplexed, a rare enough emotion. "Fuck." He muttered, forcing Roach to a hard stop.

"What did you do to him?" Yennefer asked, eyebrows raised. There was genuine confusion in her face and accusation in her voice. 

He found himself fumbling over words before simply shaking his head. "Fuck." The mountain and the dragon. He suddenly realized and resisted the urge to impale himself on his sword. "Fuck." He said for the third time.

He sighed and gave Yennefer the reigns so she could hold more securely to Roach while he dismounted. "Jaskier." He limped over to where the Bard was standing. His sobs were still loud and uncontrolled, tears running rapidly down his face, irritating the small cuts under his eye and his split lip, which was now bleeding again. His nose dripped as well, mkxing with the blood and the tears. In short, the Bard was a fucking mess.

The Witcher grimaced before putting a hand to the back of the Bard's neck and pulling him to his chest. Jaskier, shocked, stiffened for a moment before going limp and crying into Geralt's shirt. "Uh...um...there...there." He patted the man's back. "Look uh..." He closed his eyes, trying to find the right words. "What I said to you, on the mountain. I shouldn't have." 

Jaskier pulled back slightly. His watery blue eyes were now set on the Witcher's face. "Fuck." Geralt hesitantly raised his hand and used his thumb to brush away the tears from Jaskier's bad eye. The Bard flinched in pain. "Sorry." 

"You...you've never said that to me." Jaskier sniffed and then returned his face to Geralt's shirt. "It's not the mountain." He muttered after a beat. He closed his eyes, trying to stem the tears. "It's not the mountain." He repeated. 

"I know." The Witcher pressed his lips together in a grimace. He could hear the fluttering of the Bard's heartbeat and smell the lust radiating from his skin. It wasnt that difficult to figure out and it wasn't a new realization either. "You're in love with me and I broke your heart."

The words just made Jaskier cry harder. Geralt's shoulders slumped and he found himself twisting around to look at Yennefer for help. The Sorceress was watching them, a smirk on her face, she had the audacity to look amused. This is your mess, Geralt, her face said. You get to fucking clean it up. He also really needed to apologize to her, and he figured that was coming at some point. Though she was more likely to hit him-several times and probably kick him in the balls- than cry in his arms. 

"Jaskier..." He sighed, the Bard was still sobbing, though it was beginning to quiet. "Look...uh...when we get to Ellander, we'll...talk." He grimaced again. "And...uh...figure it out." That probably wasnt the right thing to say, but fuck if he could figure out the right words. 

_Now tell him you're sorry, and you love him too._ Yen's voice rang in his head. He looked back towards her and glared. She threw her hands in the air and gave him a critical look.

"Figure what out?" The Bard pressed, sniffling. He pulled back and wiped his face with his sleeve. There were still tears coming but at least the sobbing had stopped. 

Geralt pressed his lips together again. "Hmm." It rumbled in his chest. "Us." He finally said. The look of hope the Bard's eyes was too much. He tried to resist the urge to kiss him that seemingly came out of nowhere. "Come on, Bard." He urged, gesturing towards Yen and Roach. He hissed softly when he looked down at his mess of a shirt. "Uh." He reached into the saddle bag and pulled out a clean scrap. "Here..." He gestured to his face before handing it over. Jaskier actually smiled as he took it. The Witcher set his jaw, trying not to let his eyes linger on the Bard.

Yennefer smirked at him when he mounted back up behind her. "If you break that Bard's heart again when we get to Ellander, I'll flay you." She hissed, before tapping the reigns and urging Roach forward. 

He scoffed, shaking his head. He really didnt expect Yennefer to be on Jaskier's side. "You dont like him, remember?" 

"I can be swayed." Was her answer. Damn her ability to make him regret everything he has ever said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck. As Geralt would say. I promise we'll get to the fun tags. It just might not be till chapter 5 or so. This story is taking a wider turn than I originally planned.


	4. Feverfew

They made camp off the main roads after nightfall, near Razwan, within Temeria's borders. The long day of traveling hadn't done Geralt's leg nor Yennefer's injuries any favors. By the time he collapsed unto his bedroll and elevated his leg with his bag the Witcher burned with fever. "Jaskier." Yen muttered, her violet eyes dulling in the firelight. She was wrapped in a blanket on the other bedroll, shivering just a little. "You have to mix yarrow with coriander. It will help Geralt's fever."

"I'm fine." The Witcher muttered, though his eyes were closed and sweat beaded his forehead. 

"But you're not." Yennefer muttered back. 

"Neither are you."

Jaskier ignored their banter. Leave it to the Witcher and the Sorceress to find something to argue about while they were both near death and camped in the middle of the fucking woods. He was already going through their bags. "We only have enough of this for one dose." He held up the afore-mentioned herbs in their direction. Yennefer sighed in displeasure. He knew she didn't have the strength to conjure more. Geralt hummed, thinking he had won the argument.

"Give it to Geralt. If something happens he needs to be well, not me." Yennefer urged. There was a sincerity in her voice that Jaskier found odd and misplaced. He often judged the sorceress to be selfish and self-seeking, that she would suffer so that Geralt could have relief made him rethink his judgement of her. That may have been the second time he realized she actually did love him, in spite of it all. Definitely second, the first and until now only other time had been on the Mountain, when the boards began to give and they both spent a horrifying moment in each other's grief believing they could lose the Witcher. Geralt, either unaware of what she was offering or caught up in his own out-of-place self-sacrificing desire, tried to argue back but she shut him down again. "Jaskier and I can't carry you, and even with the potion I would be too weak to fight off Nilfgaard or whatever tries to attack us. So drink the fucking potion, Witcher." 

Jaskier tried to contain his laughter as he minced the potion ingredients against the mortar. Geralt shot him a critical look. "Something funny, bard?" He rasped. He shut his mouth, but his eyes flashed towards Yen. The sorceress regarded him with a hint of what could be contrived as respect before turning over on her bedroll and pulling the blanket tighter around herself. He would help her in a moment, after he poured the liquid down Geralt's throat, if the situation necessitated it. 

Geralt tried to bat away the bowl, but the Bard held it just outside of his reach. "Come now, drink your medicine." He couldn't resist saying. If looks could murder a man, Jaskier was skinned, and his entrails spilled. He gave the Witcher a look and held the bowl out. After a moment, the Witcher huffed, annoyed and took the bowl. He brought it to his lips, tasting the bitterness and then downed it as quickly as he could. It was enough to nearly make him vomit, but he held his composure through the roll of cramping that spread up his stomach and shot bile into his throat. After a moment it settled. He eyed the bard again before closing his eyes, feeling a cool, calming sensation roll over his body, quelling the fire that burned within him. 

Jaskier nodded, satisfied when he saw the sweat roll down Geralt's brow, and color start to weed it's way back into his face, indicating the broken fever. He went over to Roach and grabbed their wineskin. He poured the water over a clean cloth, soaking it before he brought back to the fire and offered it to Geralt. The Witcher took it grudgingly, his golden glare fixed on the bard who only offered a smile in return, rather than a fight. Jaskier took the damp cloth and went over to where Yennefer had curled up. He sponged her cheek with it, even as she shivered, and then laid it again her forehead. "Is there anything else we can brew for fever?"

"Feverfew, but it doesn't always work." Geralt muttered. He gestured to one of the saddlebags. "A daisy." Jaskier grabbed the saddle bag and opened it, riffling through it until he found the white and yellow flower. He pulled it out and picked up the bowl. There was a little bit of liquid still remaining, so he mixed the crushed flower with the liquid and brought it over to Yennefer. 

"Yen." He shook her lightly and she blinked violet eyes up at him wordlessly. He took the corner of the cloth and used it to mop up the contents of the bowl before he put it to her lips. She sucked on his weakly, coughing a little as she tried to keep it down. Afterwards her eyes looked a little brighter, and when the Bard lay his hand against her face, she seemed a little cooler. "Bard." She muttered. "Sing for us." Came her request. Jaskier raised an eyebrow, wondering if the decoction he had just fed her was now making her hallucinate, but he wasn't going to say no to a request. He picked up his lute and sat down the log between her and Geralt. The Witcher rolled his eyes, grunted a little, but said nothing. 

He sang _Toss a Coin_ and _White Wolf_ and _Her Sweet Kiss_. He even managed to sneak in a rendition of _Fishmonger's Daughter_ before he found himself drifting off. Yennefer was soundly asleep, so still he was briefly afraid she was dead, but Geralt would have been able to tell and he didn't seem perturbed, just quiet, as always. "Will you sleep?" He whispered as he settled himself propped against the log, using the spare blanket to wrap around himself. 

The Witcher was quiet for a few beats, eyes moving from the fire, to Yen, to Jaskier and back again. "A little, maybe." He muttered. "Go to sleep, bard."

"Can I ask you something first?"

"Hmm."

"Do you really believe I'm the one whose shoveled shit into your life?"

The Witcher's lips spread out into something resembling a grin, but it came and went quickly enough that Jaskier could have imagined it. His eyes drifted over to the bard and he felt his gaze for a moment. "I was angry, and unfair." That was the closest thing to a sincere apology the bard could ever hope to get. Geralt's hand twitched and after a moment he lifted it and let his fingers brush Jaskier's cheek. Just a small, quick gesture that was over as fast as it hand begun. The bard's lips parted in awe and shock, but Geralt wasn't looking at him anymore, instead he was staring into the fire and paid the bard no more attention. 

The next morning saw Geralt grow stronger, while Yennefer was still comparatively weak. It was not so much her wound that was troublesome, but her magic had been weakened so drastically that it was slow to return, and as such she was exhausted and dazed. The long days of riding ahead would do nothing to quell her suffering. Jaskier tried to keep her as distracted as he could. He sang all the ballads he knew and then sang them again. Surprisingly enough Geralt did not seem to object to the constant chatter. Though he said little, he seemed to perhaps enjoy the way the bard talked and sang himself silly, until he was hoarse and coughing.   
  


"Jaskier. Even your own throat wants you to shut up." The Witcher remarked. They had crossed the river Ina passed Maribor. Ellander was still a full day ahead. The bard had not stopped speaking in two days, now his coughing was all that could be heard. He glanced back at the bard was who red-faced and hacking, and starting to tremble. He gripped his shirt hard with a shaking hand. After a beat the Witcher realized it was not just a dry throat that ailed the bard. He urged Roach to a stop and whispered an apology to Yennefer, who was asleep against his chest. The sorceress stirred enough to take the reigns and steady herself in the saddle while Geralt dismounted and tended to Jaskier.

"Come on, bard." He grabbed the hacking man by the back of his shirt and dragged him into the clearing, pushing him down unto a log. The coughing quieted enough for Jaskier to clear his throat. He gasped softly, reaching for his chest. He looked up at Geralt who was studying his face. His eyes were bloodshot and ringed in dark purple, especially the bruised side of his face, which was a mix of black, purple, and yellow coated in red from burst vessels. The Witcher hummed and then touched the bard's lips with his thumb. He ran his fingers together and frowned. "Fuck."

"What is it?" Jaskier asked, his voice grating as he tried to speak. 

"Your lungs, they're injured." Geralt wrinkled his nose and stood up. He tested his knee against the dirt, planting his heel firmly and testing the weight. "Come on." He pulled Jaskier back up and slung one of his arms around his shoulders. Jaskier nearly collapsed against the Witcher as he was dragged back to Roach and unceremoniously dumped unto her saddle, behind Yennefer. He scrambled to try and hold on, wrapping his arms around the sorceress's waist and slumping against her back.

"What is wrong with him?" Yennefer looked both bewildered and annoyed, but she made no move to push the bard away.

"He's got pleurisy." Geralt muttered, taking the reigns from her and leading Roach on. His leg was holding, but it was still a long walk to Ellander and he wasn't sure how long it would take to irritate the still-healing wound. "Worried about an injury." He shared a concerned look with Yen before he reached into the saddle bag and drew out a bright yellow potion that he handed to her. She uncorked it and sniffed it. Nodding to the Witcher in approval she reached around and tapped the Bard.

"Jask, drink this." He was starting to cough again. He looked up at her and then down to the vial she was offering him. After a moment he took it and drank it down. He coughed again, but it was weaker and he seemed to settle himself. His breath was ragged as he rested against her shoulders. "It was honey, ginger, and thyme. It should quiet your-" She stopped when she realized he had fallen asleep against her. She chuckled. Geralt looked up at the sound. He looked almost relieved to hear her laughing. She smiled at him and then glanced back at Jaskier. "Did he take a hit to the chest? In addition to the face?" Geralt nodded and Yen frowned. "Well...with any luck we'll be in Ellander before he gets worse." The Witcher nodded. He urged Roach forward with more force, trying to keep their pace brisk, even with his injured leg. 


	5. Nenekke

It was dark when they reached the temple. Geralt clutched at his leg in pain leaning into Roach as he tried not to collapse. He set his arm over the saddle, gripping it as his face fell into the crook of his elbow. He was starting to sweat again, whether from fever or pain, he did not know. Yennefer grabbed unto his shirt with one hand and reached behind her to keep Jaskier on the horse. Two sisters dressed in light gray cloaks hurried out to meet them. Yen picked her head up, her vision swimming and unfocused. "Sisters, your help, I beg you. The Witcher was bitten by a ghoul, and the Bard was hit in the chest and struggles to breathe. And I..." She blinked several times. 

One of the sisters grasped unto her hand and started to help her down from Roach."You are most in need of our attention, Yennefer of Vengerberg. We have been expecting your arrival. Other Mages from Sodden have preceded you." They held her up even as she tried to collapse once her feet were on the ground. When did she grow so weak? Even firm ground at her feet made her dizzy, and she had to rely on the sisters, lest she be laid out on the grass. Two other sisters hurried out, both of them going straight to Jaskier to get him from the horse. Finally a dark woman with grey, curly hair dressed in bright orange and blue robes appeared. "This is Nen-"

"Nenekke." Geralt breathed out, still propping himself up against Roach as he turned to her. She put a hand to his cheek and with her other she clutched at his thigh. He hissed in pain but did not move her hand. She muttered softly in Elder, raising her eyes to his. Warmth spread over his leg, the pain lessened until it was tolerable. His muscles visibly relaxed as her words fell. "Thank you." He muttered, able to straightened up. He would limp, but he no longer felt the leg try to give. 

"You need rest, Geralt." She told him, and then glanced behind him. "Yennefer...and Jaskier. What a match you three make. Sisters, quickly, we must see to each of them." She urged her priestesses to help Yen and Jask inside while she walked with Geralt who pointedly refused her help to go into the temple. As the two sisters who were helping Yennefer made for the general ward where the sick were kept, Nenekke stopped them. "The private room would suit better, girls." She directed. The sisters nodded and, avoiding the general ward, brought Yennefer and Jaskier to a private room at the east wing of the grounds. Geralt raised an eyebrow as Nenekke bid him inside. The room was larger than he was expecting, already prepared with three beds with stark white sheets, and tables containing potions and medical tools. "I'll have your bags brought in and your swords seen to, Witcher." She promised. "And your clothes laundered." She gestured to the bed closest to the wall.

"Are..." He gestured towards Yennefer and Jaskier, who were being undressed by the sisters. Nenneke gave him a look as he hummed and took off his shirt. As he sat down on the bed he undid the bandage about his thigh and took off his boots. He undid his belt and put his hands to his breeches. She waved him off, kneeling down and looking at his injured thigh. "How is it?" He asked softly.

"The wound has sealed, and the infection is dissipating. A long healing, made longer by your ministrations at Sodden and journey here, but recovery hence." She smiled. "And no permanent damage beyond another scar. Still. You must rest. You can stay here while we see to Yennefer and Jaskier, or you can bathe. I suggest the latter." She gestured to a small room off of the main one. "But I know you will choose the former." She gestured to fresh clothes that Geralt had not seen when he sat down. He nodded in appreciation, changing into the fresh black breeches and loose black shirt. He rolled up his sleeves and sat back unto the bed, his back to the wall.

Yennefer was laying in the middle bed, now wearing a fresh silver grey chemise without sleeves that unlaced low down her stomach. Nenneke had turned from Geralt to heal Yen's wound. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are recovering your strength. This wound is almost healed, by your powers alone." The arch priestess was saying.

"She's alright?" Geralt questioned. His expression was unreadable, but there was a question in his eyes that made Nenekke smile. She pulled the blanket over the sorceress and bid her to sleep. 

"Your sorceress is going to be alright." 

"And my bard?" Jaskier was coughing again, one of the sisters put a bowl under his chin. The other was examining his bare chest. A third was behind him, holding him upright upon the bed. 

Nenekke smiled again. "Leave him to our capable hands, Geralt. He will soon be well." 

"Archpriestess. He bleeds inside." One of the sisters hissed. Nenekke flew from Yennefer's bedside to Jaskier's. 

Geralt instinctively sat up straighter, and Yen moved to sit up as well. "Stay there." Nenekke hissed at them both. Geralt, almost defiantly got up, he made it no farther than Yen's bedside. She reached out and grabbed his hand, holding it securely as they watched the sisters.

"The injury has knocked air where it should not be." Yennefer gasped softly in horror as Nenekke took a knife from one of the sisters and brought it to Jaskier's chest. Geralt grabbed unto her, his free hand flying to her shoulder, his other squeezing her hand. 

"Geralt." Yennefer whispered. Her eyes widened as horror and fear overtook her features. The Witcher held her tighter, his grip is almost painful and their hands go white with how hard they are holding unto each other. She looks up at him and sees that though he retains his stoicism, his eyes are alive with terror. And guilt. She feels the guilt that rushes over him, because it also rushes over her. They had no idea that Jaskier was this bad off. They suspected. He said said it was pleurisy. They did not recognize the seriousness of the wound. She tries to understand when the minor amusement...and largely annoyance she felt for Jaskier had turned to concern and care, and realizes in this moment it doesnt matter to her. Geralt called him "his" bard, but she softly corrects that now. "Our bard..." She squeezes his hand and he hums deep though quietly in his chest. 

Nenekke has taken a knife to his chest. When the blade pierces down through his skin into the space below, blood sprays from the wound, coating the sheets below him. She cuts down a smooth line, and dark red blood gushes forth. Yennefer gasps and Geralt moves, gritting his teeth as he avoids drawing closer. One of the sisters passes her a hollow tube that she shoves into the wound before packing it with cotton and wrapping it tightly. The tube is needed to keep his lung inflated while she begins the slow process of healing the wound. There is blood everywhere. On Jaskier, on Nenekke, on the knife, on the sheets. 

Jaskier's chest, that had been quivering and convulsing with pain goes painfully still. Nenekke raises her head and cannot contain her worry. Geralt and Yennefer both rush the bed. Geralt knocks the sisters aside and punches Jaskier in the chest. His flesh connects with bone over Jaskier's heart and he hears the ribs shatter. He can feel the bard's heart beneath his hand as he presses down, pulls back, repeats the action. Yennefer is warm at his back, muttering in Elder, her hands spread over Jaskier's ribs. 

"Damnit Jaskier, do not leave us." Geralt hisses behind clenched teeth. His other hand joins his fist as he presses against the bard's heart. Yennefer gasps sharply as though she's been shot, and he feels it too. The bard's heart quivers back to life and begins to beat, fast but palpable under his hands. He pulls away and steps back. Yennefer almost collapses and he barely catches her. They sink to the floor together. He wraps both arms around her and his head falls into her back as she slumps against him, hands clutching his arms. 

Nenekke has said nothing. She had started to, but she felt the healing magic that exploded from Witcher and Sorceress both. And the Bard's spirit, which had rose up eagerly to pass from the sphere was captured in the tenderils of Destiny's embrace and pulled back. She spread her hands across Jaskier's bloody chest and resumed her healing spell. "Sisters. Get the Bard's lovers to bed. You may want to push the beds together. When we have finished healing and cleaning up the Bard, they will want to feel his flesh against their own." 


	6. Willow

Yennefer came to with a gasp, sitting upright and looking around blindly. She groped for Geralt and found him at her side, asleep with his face half buried in the pillow. Jaskier lay not far away. Close enough that she could roll over to his side and touch him. She prodded him gently with soft touches: his bruised eye, his split lip, his chest, the ugly wound at his side. She found them all healing nicely, bandages clean, stitches tight. His breath comes in even rise and fails within his chest, trembling slightly from pain that is still far away from his mind's reach. 

She feels Geralt stir at her side. He sits up and presses close to her, observing the Bard from over her shoulder. He wraps one arm around her and with the other he ghosts her touches as he too examines the Bard's wounds. "He's in pain." 

"Yes, but he's deep enough into unconscious that it wont pull him awake just yet." She feels his hand shift closer to her belly, his fingertips brushing the edges of the bandage there. He can feel the stitches underneath and he starts to run his fingers against the length of them. She reaches behind them both and grabs his injured thigh, pulling the limb closer. The bandage feels dry though she can't see if it is clean. The muscle feels firm and does not tremble with weakness as it had done in days past. "I'm alright." She notices faintly that they've both laid their other hands to rest against Jaskier's. 

"As am I." His breath rumbles against her back. He's pressed so close to her she can feel his words as hot breath against her ear. He shifts his knees, parting his thighs and urging her between them. She moves to sit between his broad thighs, pressing her back against his chest. They both keep their fingers in contact with Jaskier's skin, as if they cannkt touch each other without also touching the Bard.

He presses a chaste kiss to her clavicle, right where her neck and shoulder meant. His lips are soft and warm against her skin. "I never..." She knows what he wants to say. A stab of anger or annoyance strikes her heart, but frizzles immediately. If she tensed in that moment she relaxes now and he feels it. It urges him to continue. "The mountain. The Djinn. I-" 

"Don't." Her voice is harsh and thick. Final. So that he has no room to recant. "Don't apologize for the Djinn." She continues. She can't see his face, can't see his eyes, but she imagines vividly they are wide and taken back. Once upon a time she thought an apology for the Djinn would at least be an amusement she could ground her boot upon. Now it is the last thing she ever wants to hear from him. Not because it would be empty, or because she isn't still angry at his interference. She still mourns the loss of her chance to regain her womb, her chance to have a baby. No, it's because without the Djinn's wish he would never have found her that night. He never would have come. 

"Why not?" He finally asks. She can feel his uncertainty in the way he begins to shift back from her. She grips his thigh and holds him to his place. "I thought you were still angry at me for that." 

"I'm angry because that was my last chance to be a mother." The confession makes her voice break just a little, and he feels it inside himself. He felt her desperation on the mountain, and for once in his life he mourned what could and would never be. He would have given it to her if he had known. He would give it now if he could. He plants a gentle kiss at the back of her shoulder, hoping it's right gesture. She seems to melt into him in response. "If you hadnt made that wish... we never would have found each other again. And we'd both be dead of our wounds." He hums in agreement against her skin. 

"Still." He gives her shoulder another kiss. "You didnt deserve what I said to you on the mountain. I am sorry for that." He finally moves his fingers from her stomach. They trail up her arm and come to rest on the strap of her chemise. He pushes it away slightly, revealing more of her warm bronze skin that he can press his lips into. "And what I said in bed...the night before...that you're important to me..." He kisses his way up, rises on his knees so he reach her jaw and her cheek. "You still are." It's the closest he can get to "I love you." For now. While Jaskier is still unconscious and still mending. He looks down and realizes theyve entwined their fingers with the Bard's and is surprised at how well the three of them fit together. Destiny entwines them so well. 

She hums in approval, turned to finally look at him. "You're important to me too." She replies. As he inhales the smell of lilac and gooseberries penetrates the air. His upper lip twitches when he realizes the scent is stronger when she's happy, and he gives her a light smile before he captures her lips into a deep kiss. She kisses him back, pushing herself tighter into his chest, squeezing his thigh against her hip. He's nearly overcome with the lust that ripples through his belly and starts to settle in his cock, but Jaskier's quiet moans interupt any building fantasy. 

"Jaskier?" It's him who says it, but they both break apart at the same time. She leans forward towards the Bard and he leans over her back. Yennefer releases his thigh and moves to thread her fingers into the Bard's hair. Jaskier shutters with his next breath, his neck moving side to side as he wakes from the drugged sleep. Geralt feels him squeeze their entwined fingers.

Yennefer shushes him quietly. "Geralt, on the table." She points to the oak table beside the bed. Upon it lays a bowl of clean water, cloths, and several potions. He kisses her cheek and he draws his hand back from their entwined fingers.

Jaskier cries out at the seemingly lost of contact and Yennefer hushes him softly as the Witcher moves away, rolling off the matteress and goes to the table. He uncorkes several vials and sniffs them, stopping when he finds the one he's after. "Willow bark." He holds it out to her.

"Take his hands." She slips the other hand from the Bard's grip to take the potion. He grabs both of Jaskier's wrists and moves them against his chest. He slides his other arm under the Bard's shoulders and hauls him up. 

"Jaskier." He rasps. "Open your eyes." As if bidden to do Geralt's will the Bard's cornflower eyes slit open. He tries to assess where he is, another moan escaping as he shakes in the Witcher's arms. 

"Jaskier." Yennefer speaks his time and he inclines his head towards her voice. "You're okay. Open your mouth." She soothes him as she brushes the hair away from his forehead, holding the vial to his lips.

He drinks it slowly, the taste is bitter ans familiar but it still takes him a moment to recognize it's willow bark. He can smell Yennefer even if he barely recognizes her voice, lilac and gooseberries hevy in the air. He recognizes the heat in the body that holds his shoulders and grips his wrists, realizing it's Geralt who holds him steady as he downs the potion. The effects are not immediate and he feels light headed and nauseous as Geralt lowers him back to the pillow. "Ger..." He tries to say.

"I'm here, Jaskier." He responds. His hand still grips his wrists he hopes the contact isnt broken. After a moment Yennefer's hand comes to join Geralt's. "Try to go back to sleep, Bard." The Witcher urges. He can't deny that his eyes feel heavy. The nausea begins to pass and the heaviness increases, but he doesnt want to sleep. He's too afraid that they'll leave him. Yennefer's other hand is still in his hair though and Geralt's is at his shoulder. 

"Please don't leave." He slurs out. "Either of you." He can't deny the heavy hand of sleep any longer, the potion has calmed the pain and he feels far away and warm. In the distance though he hears their voices. 

"Never." Yennefer says. 

"We're right here." Geralt adds.

And Jaskier sleeps.


	7. Love

"How fair ye three this morning?" Nenekke's voice roused Yennefer. She opened her eyes, feeling Geralt stir also at her side. At some point in the night they had switched places, so that the Witcher could soothe the Bard of his trembling. Now as she rolled to her side and propped herself up beside Geralt she saw that Jaskier was also fully awake though not keen to move much. 

"We are well, thanks to you." Jaskier put a hand to his bandaged chest and grunted slightly as he tried to sit up. Geralt grabbed his shoulder and helped him to move. Nenekke went to the side of the bed and unbandaged Jaskier's chest. The wound had closed into a thick pink scar. The Bard hissed a little when he saw it, looking at the archpriestess with a question in his eyes.

"It will fade in time, Bard." She promised. He nodded, grateful. "I played but a small role." She continued. "Your life was retained because of your lovers. Their magic bid your spirit to remain." She gestured to Geralt and Yennefer who were looking relieved and hopeful. One of Yennefer's hands was on Geralt's shoulder and he had slung an arm around her waist. Jaskier raised an eyebrow and looked over at the Witcher and Sorceress. Without a word he rolled over, trying to throw himself at Geralt, who grunted but let the Bard sit on top of him. Jaskier leaned over and kissed Yennefer and then kissed Geralt. Nenekke quietly left the room, closing the heavy door behind her. 

Jaskier moaned softly as he pressed his lips against his Witcher's. Geralt chuckled, pressing against Jaskier's shoulders to push him back. "Jask, as much as I'm enjoying this..." He gestured to the scar. "Are you feeling up to it?" The Bard nodded, a whine escaping his throat as he tried to return his lips to Geralt's. "Alright." The Witcher pulled him in close, drinking his lips once more.

Yennefer ran a gentle hand through Jaskier's hair, much as she had through the previous night. The Bard pulled away and sat back, rubbing against Geralt before turning his head and kissing Yennefer. He pressed his lips hard against the Sorceress's. She gripped his face and then the back of his neck, directing his angle to where she wanted him.

Beneath them Geralt groaned. Jaskier chuckled feeling the Witcher's cock harder below him. He gave Yennefer another sweet kiss and then wrapped his hand around Geralt's clothed cock, rubbing it through his breeches. The Witcher keened, grabbing hard for Jaskier's hips and thrusting up against him. Yennefer's hands joined his as she moved behind the Bard, kissing his neck. Now it was Jaskier's turn to moan. He could feel the heat entrapped between of both of them. 

"How shall we do this?" The Sorceress purred. She wormed her hands around Jaskier's chest, catching a nipple between her fingers and squeezing it gently. The bard whined, moaning softly. Geralt reached up and squeezed the other nipple, causing the Bard to buck against his pelvis. Their clothed cocks rubbed together and both groaned. Yennefer chuckled softly, planting more soft kisses across Jaskier's back and shoulder. "Come here, Bard." She pulled Jaskier's torso around and with Geralt's help flipped him unto his hands and knees. 

"Mmm. Oh. In a hurry are we?" The bard muttered, looking over his shoulder as Geralt grabbed the waistband of his trousers and slide them down his hips. The Witcher leaned forward and placed a kiss to the Bard's lower back before trailing his lips down one milky arsecheek and then the other. Yennefer ran her hands down his bare back, using her nails to rack against warming flesh, not hard enough to draw blood but firm enough that the bard was writhing and wiggling at the sensations. "Oh gods. You two will be my undoing." He moaned softly, he inched closer and kissed Yennefer's stomach, just to draw the feeling of flesh closer. Yennefer moaned softly, her violet eyes looking past Jaskier to Geralt. She reached out and laced her fingers into the Witcher's frost-colored hair. Geralt paused the ministrations of his lips on Jaskier's arse to meet her gaze. He smirked at her before reaching blindly over to the bedside table.

Nenekke, the extremely perspective sorceress she was, had ensured there were a handful of vials of oil on the table. Geralt wasn't exactly looking for a particular one, he just grabbed the first one he touched and pulled the cork out with his teeth. It didn't smell of anything and when he poured it into his hand he found it felt slick, and just thick enough to be useful. Yen unlaced her chemise and let it fall off her shoulders and down below her thighs, letting Jaskier relish in her form as she was revealed to him. The bard moaned, taking a small breath as he moved closer and kissed her stomach more forcefully before moving down lower. His lips and tongue found the top of her folds and he nipped and sucked greedily as she rose to her knees, cradling the back of his head and again running her nails down his back. She moaned, gasping softly as his tongue found her clit and he teased it with wet strokes.

Geralt growled in arousal. He pushed open Jaskier's arsecheeks and slide a wet finger down the length of his crack and back up again. The bard shuttered and groaned, the tips of his teeth nipping at Yennefer's clit, causing the sorceress to cry out in pleasure. She caught Geralt's golden gaze again and he smirked victoriously, as he pushed the tip of his index finger into Jaskier's arsehole. The bard keened and arched forward, his tongue slipping lower and suddenly penetrating Yennefer who groaned, pulling at the Bard's hair and raking her nails to his shoulder. The Witcher growled again. "Fuck her with your tongue, Bard." He snapped, pressing his finger in deeper and arching it. Jaskier cried out loudly, pressing his tongue and his mouth into Yennefer.

"Fuck." Yennefer moaned. "Jask...fuck." She closed her eyes briefly, her thighs beginning to shake as Jaskier's tongue darted in and out of her opening, in rhythm with Geralt fucking him with his finger. The Witcher slid his finger out and pushed in with two, twisting and scissoring them inside the Bard. Jaskier cried out in pleasure, his cock beginning to ache. The sounds from both his lovers were deafening to the Witcher who roughly reached into his breeches and dragged out his own cock, giving it a few quick strokes before he rammed three fingers right up into Jaskier's arse. The Bard shouted, his tongue pressing deeply into the Sorceress. Yennefer came with another cry of "Fuck!" on her lips.

"Fuck, you two are beautiful." Geralt withdrew his fingers from the Bard and stroked his cock to full hardness. Jaskier cried out at the empty feeling the loss of Geralt's fingers caused. The Witcher chuckled, slapping his ass. "Soon enough Bard."

"This is a change." Yennefer's chest heaved as she moved slightly back from Jaskier. "You're usually not so talkative in bed." She rubbed Jaskier's back as she moved around him to grip Geralt's neck. She pulled the Witcher down into a deep kiss. The Bard whined at the sudden lack of all attention, and Geralt smacked his ass a second time. "So needy, Bard." Yennefer tutted, pulling back from Geralt just enough to speak. "You'll soon have yours." She dropped down to the mattress and pulled the Witcher with her, spreading her thighs and hitching them around Geralt's waist. He growled, kissing her fiercely as he rubbed his cock against her cunt, teasing before ramming inside her. She racked her nails across his back, much like she had done with Jaskier, but stronger, and deep enough to draw blood on the Witcher. Jaskier moved himself unto his knees, groaning as he palmed his own cock. 

"Melitele's tits." He moaned, seeing the blood from Yennefer's nails. He suddenly had an overwhelming desire to lap it up, his mouth watering. He caught Yennefer's violet gaze, flicking his eyes to Geralt's back and to her gaze again. She nodded before crying out as their Witcher rutted inside her, filling her deeply with his cock. The Bard scrambled to their side and drew his tongue over the bloody, wrecked flesh. Geralt's skin was a furnace and his tongue ached with the heat as he lapped the blood away. 

"Fuck." Geralt howled, rolling his hips. He pushed himself up on his hands, looking over at Jaskier with soft gasps before returning his attention to Yennefer. He kissed her through his increasingly hungry strokes. Her thighs tightened around his waist, trembling with pleasure and need. She came around his cock and the feeling of her release caused him to growl. He came with a roar, spilling deep inside her. Jaskier moaned, jerking his cock faster as the sight, lapping more blood from Geralt's shoulder. The Witcher reached out, groping for Jaskier's neck, and pulled the Bard down to his side, so that he could kiss him as well. "Fuck." He muttered into the Bard's lips. He took another series of short breaths before Yennefer let go of his waist and he pulled out of her, moving back to the head of the bed. 

Yennefer caught her breath, chuckling to herself as the waves of pleasure washed over her skin. She took a moment and sat up looking over at Jaskier and his achingly hard cock that he was still lazily stroking. "Give us moment, Bard." She promised, kissing him before crawling over to Geralt. "Witcher." She muttered, kissing him and then his neck. "You're over dressed." She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off of him, kissing his chest and his stomach. He chuckled, running his fingers lazily through her raven hair. His cock began to twitch in renewed interest. She grabbed his breeches and pulled them completely off. He spread his thighs, expecting her to crawl between them, but instead she winked and gestured for the Bard. "Come here, Jask." She demanded. The Bard crawled over obediently. "Suck our Witcher." 

"Fuck, Yen." Geralt groaned. His cock hardened at her tone and Jaskier's cornflower eyes. He could see the Bard's mouth almost begin to water at the chance to suck his cock. "Come on, then Bard." He hissed, spreading his thighs wider and drawing his knees up. Jaskier clamored between them and opened his mouth, catching the head of the Witcher's cock with his tongue. He rolled over it for a few moments.

"Fuck, Yen, you taste divine." The bard moaned, and then began to lick thick, wet stripes down the length of the Witcher. Yennefer chuckled darkly, tucking herself into the Witcher's side. Geralt growled, tipping his head back. He grabbed Jaskier's hair and pulled, causing the bard to whine. 

"Isn't he good." Yen whispered into his ear, her breath hot on his face. She tapped his jaw, and he turned his head to kiss her, groaning into her mouth as Jaskier worked his tongue over the head of his cock again. Yennefer grinned, kissing him back. She pulled away and moved down to Jaskier, kissing his ribs as she slipped behind him. Geralt's golden eyes followed her. He growled when he realized her plans, and then moaned as Jaskier began to swallow his cock. "Just wait, Witcher." She muttered, too low for the Bard to hear, but plain enough for him. "I'm going to make him sing." She dipped a finger between his arsecheeks, running up and down his crack, the residual oil from Geralt's earlier ministrations wetting her skin. She slide her finger down lower, behind his balls, rubbing the smooth patch of skin there. Jaskier yelped and moaned around Geralt's cock, and the Witcher cursed.

"Gah. Yen." Geralt moaned. "Jask." He looked down at his bard, combing his fingers through the bard's hair and unto the back of his neck. Jaskier bobbed up and down on his cock, moaning and writhing from Yennefer's fingers that were slipping in and out of him now. His balls grew heavy and he roared when the Bard, sensing this, reached out and fingered them, rolling them in his palm. "Stop." He pressed his hand against Jaskier's cheek, taking a few deep breaths. The bard confused, sat back, letting the Witcher fall from his mouth and whined as Yennefer's fingers withdrew from his arse. "Don't want to cum yet." The Witcher gritted out. "Lay back."

Yennefer guided Jaskier down unto his back. She bent forward and kissed him while while Geralt grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his hips. "He's going to make you feel so good, Dandelion." The sorceress purred. "So very good."

Jaskier whined as the Witcher spread his thighs and moved between them. He grabbed the vial of oil from the bedside table and poured the rest of it on his cock, slicking himself up with the mixture of the oil and the bard's spit. "Are you ready for me, Bard?" Geralt hissed, plunging three fingers up into his arse. Jaskier whined and panted, nodding vigorously. Geralt added a fourth finger, spearing the bard with his thick digits. "So open for me." He kissed the head of Jaskier's aching cock that was begging for release. Jaskier whined and begged. Geralt chuckled, pulling his fingers out and wrapping a hand around his cock. He steadied it for a moment, using his other hand to spread Jaskier's cheeks and then pushed the head into the Bard's hole.

"Melitele's tits. Fuck." Jaskier whined. Yennefer run her hands through his hair, then over his chest. He groaned, panting as Geralt slide deeper inside him, stuffing him full, until his entire length had breeched him and he could feel the Witcher's balls flush against his skin. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." The bard panted. Geralt and Yennefer chuckled, looking at each other with amusement and lust. "Geralt, move." Jaskier begged. "Please." The Witcher nodded, bending down to kiss the Bard before rolling his hips back and shoving them forward. He felt the head of his cock hit the Bard's prostate and both of them moaned.

The Witcher rutted into him with slick strokes, the sound of skin slapping skin loud in all their ears. Yennefer's hand wormed through between their bodies and grasped Jaskier's much neglected cock. With the Witcher's next thrust she rubbed her thumb against the head, jerking her hand so that she rubbed it against Geralt's chest, catching the friction of his thrusts. "Holy shit, Yen." Jaskier stared up at her, cornflower eyes blown black. She couldn't resist leaning down to kiss him, and then Geralt when the Witcher lifted his head and shoved forward, fucking Jaskier deep so he could reach her lips. The bard was coming undone. "Fuck." He whined, Geralt looked down as he broke from Yennefer and captured his lips. "Geralt." He moaned into the kiss. Yennefer stroked his cock again he was close. A few more brutal, deep thrusts from the Witcher had his stomach and balls tightening. The Sorceress jerked him hard, at the same moment Geralt plunged deep and he howled, sent over the edge. He came at once, keening and moaning, eyes squeezed shut as the Sorceress milked him, and Geralt thrusted quickly and deeply before finishing himself inside him. The sensations were enough that he nearly blacked out.

"Jask?" He opened his eyes to see the Witcher and Sorceress both peering over him. He nodded softly. He whimpered a little as Yennefer withdrew her hand, and cried just a bit as Geralt pulled out of him. "Sorry." The Witcher said softly, kissing him gently as the Sorceress rubbed his shoulder and his chest. Geralt lifted one of his thighs and pulled back his arsecheek. He was sure his hole was red, and it ached deliciously. 

"Does he need salve?" Yennefer asked already moving towards the bedside table. Geralt shook his head. Yennefer nodded. She got up out of the bed and brought over a bowl of water and some clean clothes. Geralt dipped one in the bowl and began to clean the spend from Jaskier's stomach and ass, while Yennefer took one for herself. "Alright, Jask?" She asked, catching him looking at her as she finished and moved back unto the bed at Geralt's side. 

"Yes. I just..." He bit his lip. He winced a little when Geralt bathed his hole. "I just..." The sorceress came over and kissed him softly. "Mmm." Geralt hummed softly, smiling to himself as he finished cleaning the bard and moved on to himself. "Hey. That's my job." Jaskier protested, pulling away from Yen and scrambling to grab the wet cloth from Geralt. The Witcher and the Sorceress laughed in amusement as Jaskier took the cloth and cleaned off Geralt's stomach. He washed the Witcher's cock and then cleaned the sweat from his thighs and between his legs. "There." He looked up and saw the both of them watching him. He blushed a little. "What?"

"Nothing." Yennefer said with a wicked smile. "We just love you."

"Oh you do?" He tried to laugh it off, but Geralt pulled him down into the pillows and slotted him to his side.

"Yes." The Witcher muttered. "We do." 


	8. Chapter 8

"Yennefer, I love you, but I do believe I've won." Jaskier laid his cards down and smirked, clearly insisting that he had the victory. Yennefer eyed him carefully before flashing her cards. Jaskier's face dropped. "Fuck, Mage, how...?" The bard groaned, falling backwards on the bed. 

Geralt chuckled from across the room. He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, conversing quietly with Nenekke. "Seems they are healed." The archpriestess remarked. "Will you be taking them to Kaer Morhen?" The question caught the Witcher off-guard. He thought for a moment, glancing back to the bed where Jaskier was furiously trying to attack Yen with a pillow, but she was using her chaos to push the pillow away every time it came near her. "You need their company, Wolf." Nenekke muttered, breaking Geralt from his silent thoughts. "You were too late for your child surprise, do not scorn Destiny's second chance." She left him to mull over that revelation by himself. 

By mid-morning the following day they were packed and Roach was saddled with enough supplies to reach Kael Morhen. Geralt hesitated only for another moment before grabbing Yen's small black bag and Jaskier's broken lute. He strapped both to Roach's saddle and then gestured for Bard and Mage both to mount up. "What is this?" Yen raised an eyebrow as she walked past him. The look that passed between them told her all she needed to know. She grabbed her skirts and swung herself into the saddle, settling herself down on Roach, gently stroking her neck.

Jaskier was more taken aback. "I'm not dying, am I?" Was all he could think to say. 

Yennefer snickered. "No bard, you're going to live. Our Witcher is inviting us to spend the winter in his den." She moved forward slightly so that Jaskier could mount up behind her. 

"His den? You mean Kaer Morhen?" Jaskier turned to Geralt who merely huffed. "Wait really?" The bard clamored up into the saddle behind his sorceress. 

"Yes bard." The Witcher finally muttered, taking Roach's reigns and leading her on.

They stopped for the night in a clearing just beyond a thicket, near where the stream ran calmly and the likihood of drowners was mostly lessened. Geralt had started a fire and then retreated from the company of his Bard and Sorceress.

Jaskier nodded over to the log, far from the glow of the fire, where Geralt sat alone, the only sounds coming from the scrapping of needle against leather as he repaired the tear in his spare breeches. "Is he thinking about Ciri?" Yennefer raised an eyebrow. "His child surprise." The bard clarified.

Yennefer sighed. She picked up the armour she was mending. "He's thinking of his own pain, yes. His many failures." She worked the leather with her magic, molding and shaping it to her will. "Did you know her? The child surprise?"

"Yes." Jaskier took another gulp of his ale. "I performed in Cintra a few times." He set the ale aside and focused on restringing one of the broken strands of his lute. "I was surprised Calanthe let me. Perhaps it was her way of keeping eyes on Geralt." He sighed as he worked the string, it seemed useless with the wood splintered as it was. "I don't suppose that magic only works on leather?"

"That is no ordinary lute." Yennefer raised an eyebrow. "The strings of the elvin King are not so easily repaired." She gestured for the instrument. "Luckily for you." She touched the wood, wrapping twine around the base. As she wrapped the wood mended. "I have elvish blood myself." She passed him back the lute, nearly restored to it's former glory.

Jaskier smiled, nodding in appreciation. "Hello sexy, I've missed you." He kissed the wood, testing the strings.

"Oh you don't mean to sing now..." The sorceress groaned.

"I thought I'd do Her Sweet Kiss." The bard winked.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. "Is this where I tell you your singing is like ordering a fillingless pie?" The bard snickered, ignoring the Sorceress, but he did glance over his shoulder towards the Witcher. "He'll come around, Jaskier. He just needs time." She soothed. "The winter with us and his brothers will help. Darkness and stillness are not always evil." She sat her mending aside and reclined against the Bard's shoulder. 

Geralt stole a look across the way, watching Yennefer and Jaskier curl up against each other. He folded his breeches and got up, stuffing them into his saddle bag. Something moved in the night, near the thicket and he instantly drew his sword. At the fire his Sorceress was instantly on guard, one arm reaching to protect Jaskier and the other raised to summon chaos. He waved her down and crept towards the noise. 

His nose twitched with a smell that was distinctly human. The rustling came closer and a flash of bright blue penetrated the darkness. He pulled back the thickest branch and a body fell into his arm. He grabbed her quickly and hefted her unto his shoulder, rushing her quickly back to the glow of the fire. "Fuck. Yen." He muttered, getting her unto the ground as gently as he could. 

"She's freezing. Jaskier get the blanket." Yennefer set her hands unto the girl's shoulders, muttering in elder. 

"Geralt...that...is that..." Jaskier brought the blanket over, watching the firelight illuminate ashen hair and pale skin. He tucked the blanket around her, careful not to disturb Yen's healing spell. 

"Water." Was all Geralt said and the Bard scrambled for the wineskin. Yennefer's spell complete the Witcher slipped a hand under the girl's head and put the wineskin to her lips. She coughed and opened Emerald eyes. "Ciri." He muttered her name like a prayer. "I thought..." He smiled instead, drawing her close to him. "People linked by destiny will always find each other."


End file.
